


No Man's Land

by CarryOn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryOn/pseuds/CarryOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 1.16. The brothers' break between hunts is cut short when Dean hears something from the angels again. Now not only do they have to find out what happened but also who they can trust before time runs out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Carry On...a Supernatural Virtual Season

Episode 16: No Man's Land

Authors: Bright73 and Cinca

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural or it's characters, basically any characters familiar from the show. They are properties of the WB, CW and Eric Kripke.

A/N: Carry On...A Supernatural Virtual Season picks up at the end of All Hell Breaks Loose part one and then ventures on with a what if scenario that takes the Winchester brothers through heaven and hell while fighting to save the remnants of their splintered family. See our bio page for more information.

Episode Summary: The brother's break between hunts is cut short when Dean hears something from the angels again. This time he hears something about a hunter, who has worked with the angels and who is apparently stuck in limbo. The boys decide to investigate, but Bob is not very forthcoming when they ask him so they decide to talk to the spirit of the dead hunter themselves. Only instead of bringing the spirit to them they end up going to the spirit, into Limbo! Now not only they have to find out what happened to the hunter and who they can trust they also have to figure out how to get out of there. Before the demons show up!

 **Excerpt:**

 _"All right, so what do we do?" Dean asked. "The freakin' spell was supposed to bring him to us, not the other way around!"_

 _"Well, ain't you got the knack for pointing out the obvious. This turn of events wasn't even mentioned in that damned book," Bobby grumbled. "This kinda throws everything for a loop."_

 _"And how do we get back?" Sam asked the even more important question._

 _"What, you two related or something? Just hang on while I figure out how to save all our asses. No wait, where do we turn for intel?" Bobby answered, feigning to think._

 _"Great, so now we are stuck here. Some saviors," Dean muttered sarcastically._

 **Part One**

It was a quiet morning in the small town. Barely anyone was out in the streets at 7 AM yet, which was why a black Chevy Impala was noticed as it cruised towards the nearest diner.

Dean was not in a good mood though. He was not an early riser-that was more Sam's thing-but it was his turn to get breakfast. They were in between hunts now, which was a good time for them. Time to rest up, stock up on supplies, and maybe even have a good time at the local bar, which Dean was looking forward to. Maybe he could hook up with a pretty waitress, which would mean something good coming out of this trip after all, along with the food. He just hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long for the food. He didn't want to be away too long, even though he left a note in case Sam woke up before he got back.

The diner was, much to his relief, not too crowded. Probably most were still soundly sleeping at home, like normal people, Dean noted as he sat down at one of the tables to wait for some service. At least he didn't have to wait too long.

The waitress coming out to take his order was a pretty brunette. "What can I get you, sweetheart?" she asked. Her nametag read _Shannon_.

"Some scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages and coffee and can I have it as a take out?" Dean gave her one of his killer smiles. Maybe he was getting lucky enough to get a date tonight.

"Sure thing." She blushed while scribbling down his order and left.

That was when the static hit, so sudden that it made Dean almost jump in his seat. Dean groaned. _Not now._ _Always at the worst possible times,_ he thought. The noise was punctuated by talking, or rather murmuring, he couldn't really make out any distinct words. It was as if someone turned on a TV with a very bad reception. Eventually, while concentrating hard, he was able to make out what was said.

 _"Hunter...spirit…Bob."_

The words still sounded far away and distorted, like they were being spoken inside a can with the lid on. More voices joined in and it was impossible to make out anything for a while. But the voices sounded agitated. Nervous, like something was about to happen.

 _"Demons have been visiting him. They want him to join."_

Dean could hear the voices clearly now, so vivid and loud that they made him actually jump. The phrase was said by a male voice, sounding older.

 _"He is still in Limbo, right?"_ another voice asked.

 _"Yes, and I think we need to talk to him,"_ came the answer.

 _"It's not in our hands, Bob should be the one talking to him."_ As suddenly as it begun, it was over, the voices cut off and Dean was left there, blinking and confused. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. He moved to get up, all thoughts of breakfast and the hot waitress forgotten, but a voice stopped him.

"Hey! Your order is ready. Are you okay?" It was the waitress from before.

"Yeah, yeah, just better hurry before my brother wakes up," Dean said grabbing the bags and paying for the order, leaving the waitress staring after him.

He needed to get back to the motel room and tell Sam what happened. If he'd heard right, a spirit of a hunter was in limbo and demons were trying to turn him and Bob was involved in some way. He left the diner in a hurry, not bothering to care about the weird looks he was getting or the speed limits as he drove back to the motel. He could feel this was something big. Which ever way one looked at it, demons getting a hunter on their side was never good.

The room was empty by the time he got back, but he could hear the shower running, which meant Sam had gotten up. All the better. He would have hated waking his brother up and having to deal with a cranky Sam all day.

"Hey," Dean yelled over the sounds of water running. "Got breakfast and we need to talk," he said hurriedly as a way of greeting.

"I'll be out in a minute," came the answer and Dean could hear the water being shut off. He unpacked the food and the coffee, placing it on the table as he turned on the laptop.

A few minutes later, Sam walked out, already dressed and toweling his hair dry. Dean was already researching, his breakfast already half eaten by his side.

"What is it?" Sam asked sitting down at the table. Dean sounded serious.

"Have you heard of hunters working with angels?" Dean asked.

Sam scratched his head."Except you tuning in to angels radio? No, but I guess it's possible," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Apparently, there is some hunter's spirit stuck in limbo and demons want him and angels aren't too happy about it. Oh, and Bob has something to do with it." Dean filled his brother in quickly.

Sam looked surprised. "How do you know that?"

"Heard it on the before mentioned 'radio' when I was getting food in the diner. Worst timing possible, I tell ya."

"Okay, what exactly did you hear?" Sam asked, still trying to make sense of what he just heard.

"What I told you. Nothing more than that, not even a name," Dean said frustrated. "How are we supposed to help this dude if we don't even know his name? And I am not getting anything from here." He motioned to the laptop.

"We could ask Bob." Sam suggested. "I mean, he was the one involved with him."

"It's worth a shot," Dean agreed. Bob was their best source of information, providing he told them what this was about. Demons getting a hunter on their side was never good and in times like these, it would be a disaster. Every card they held could be laid on the table and they'd probably be scewed over with their own tricks. "But we've never summoned an angel before," he continued.

"There has to be some lore about it somewhere," Sam said. "Maybe we should call Bobby on this, he might know the guy," he pondered, deep in thought.

"Maybe, but Bob seemed the one involved with how he got banished to limbo, so I say we ask him first." Dean said. Then he motioned for Sam.

"Why don't you put your geek-fu to use and see what we can find on ange calling rituals?" Standing up, Dean freed the chair for Sam

"Right." Sam said settling down in front of the laptop. With that the research started. Their break was over; they were officially on a hunt.

Dean came back from his run to the store to find Sam still in front of his laptop. They found a ritual that worked, but they needed to get a few things first.

"Hey, did you get everything?" Sam asked, looking up from his computer.

"Yes, we have everything, but next time you are doing the shopping run." Dean stated. "You are the one old ladies have a soft spot for." He grumbled while putting down everything on the table.

"So, are you sure this is going to work?" Dean said looking a little skeptically at the laptop screen with the ritual.

"It's the best I could find." Sam said, then sighed.

"What is it?" Dean asked, knowing something was bothering his brother. Sam had looked uneasy all morning.

"Nothing, it's just that I'm not sure about this. I mean this is not something I imagined an angel would do. Putting someone in limbo for eternity is cruel." Sam said, sounding unsure of himself. He had never seen this side of the angels before and certainly not with Bob. Angels were supposed to be merciful creatures. It was part of why he had faith. Faith that they would see the good in him despite his demon blood. Now he wasn't so sure and that scared him.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute, you were the one insisting we do this and now you're backing off?" Dean asked incredoulus. This was not like Sam.

"No, I am just not sure if we should do this. Or if we can trust the angels with this." He said finally.

"You mean you think Bob would lie? Angels don't lie, that's something a demon does." Dean said surprised at his brothers answer. But this wasn't why his brother was hesitating and he knew it.

"Maybe not. But think about how many times demons told the truth," Sam pointed out.

And Dean knew he had a point there. Demons loved to taunt with the truth when they knew it hurt more. But that brought back images and memories from a certain cabin and a certain demon he would rather not dwell on, especially right now.

"Look, we don't know what happened exactly, why they did this, so let's not jump into conclusions here, ok? Bob is the only one who can tell us what is this about, so let's ask him first." Dean said finally. He had a feeling there was more to this and he needed to know what.

Sam nodded reluctantly and stood up to clean the table for the ritual. "All right, let's do it," he said finally.

Twenty minutes of preparations later, the boys stood in the room ready to summon Bob. They had cleared the table and moved the furniture to make space. Sam had printed out the instructions and the spell.

It was simple: say the spell and after finishing, burn the herbs with the candles placed out. Sam volunteered to say the spell and Dean dropped the herbs into the flames. _So far, so good,_ Dean thought as he waited for Sam's Latin to finish. Finally, the spell ended. The brothers looked up, waiting for Bob to appear.

But nothing happened. No Bob, not even a gust of wind in the room. It was quiet.

"Are you sure this is the right spell?" Dean asked. They had done everything as the paper Sam printed said.

"Maybe we forgot something," Sam said looking at the paper.

Dean went over to take a look himself, which was when they heard the unmistakable sound of flapping wings. They looked up to see Bob standing in the middle of the room and he didn't look very pleased about having been summoned.

"I take it you have a good reason for practically kidnapping me from a very important meeting." He said, evenly but glaring at them.

"Actually, yes, we wanted to talk to you about something very important." Dean spoke up. "About a certain spirit stuck in limbo, who is wanted by demons." He continued before Bob could speak.

Bob blanched at that. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid, to have the Winchesters involved in this.

"I can't talk to you about that." He said simply, trying to avoid the subject.

"Why not?" Sam asked, confused. Surely the angels didn't want a hunter on the demonss side.

"Because you can't get involved in this," Bob stated, hoping the brothers would understand.

"Too late. We already know about the spirit, we know he was a hunter and demons want them on their side and we know that you were involved with him some way, so you might as well start sharing," Dean said, using his authoritative voice.

Bob looked actually scared for the first time since they met him. "You can't interfere. It has nothing to do with you!" He was more forecul this time, hoping to get his point across. This had nothing to do with the Winchesters.

"But Bob, this is big. It's the Apocalypse and we need all the help we can get and you are willing to let a hunter going over to demons?" Sam asked looking incredoulus. "Look, we just want to help," he said more softly.

"I know, but…" Bob started.

"Then why don't you let us?" Dean asked, interrupting him.

"Trust me, it's for your own good," Bob stated with a hint of finality in his voice.

"At least tell us what happened," Sam pleaded. "What did he do to deserve being in limbo?"

"I can't tell that and it was not just my decision anyway." Bob said. Then he turned to leave. "Sorry, I need to go. Like I said, I was in the middle of an important meeting."

"Wait! At least tell us his name," Sam spoke up.

Bob turned back to look at him. "Patrick O'Brian. Sorry, but I really can't tell you more." With that, he disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

The brothers shared a look.

"Well, that went well," Dean mumbled under his breath as he went over to the table to pack up before the motel staff saw the rearranged room.

"At least we have a name now. We know who he is," Sam pointed out. "We can ask Bobby if he knew him."

"I will call him. You could try and see if we can summon the spirit. Or at least find out more about what happened to the guy," Dean conceded.

"All right. I will try to see if there is something about him online," Sam said. It was worth a shot; maybe the hunter was in some articles or he was reported as a missing person. Dean nodded in acknowledgment as he went out the door to phone while Sam booted up the laptop again.

Bobby picked up his phone after the first ring.

"What is it?" Came his voice over the line.

"Hey listen, Bobby, did you happen to know a hunter named Patrick O'Brian?" Dean asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Yeah, I knew him. But he has been dead for years. What about him?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I know he is dead. But apparently he is in limbo, 'cause angels put him in there and demons are trying to get him on their side." Dean answered in a rush.

Bobby felt uneasy on the other end of the line. For once, he was glad Dean couldn't see his face. He knew something bad happened to Patrick then and hearing it confirmed, especially now, was making him even more nervous.

"How do you know that?" he asked Dean.

"I heard it. From the angels."

Bobby could hear Dean's uneasiness through the phone. His angel radio was a touchy subject. Even with Bobby, despite knowing the older man wouldn't tell a soul.

"And then we summoned Bob. He wasn't very talkative, though, barely gave us the hunter's name. And we thought you might know about the guy." Dean finished his tale.

Bobby sighed. These two sure knew how to find trouble.

"And what are you planning on doing? Busting him out of limbo? That's not going to be a cakewalk," he. That was true, no one got to limbo and came back to tell about it.

"That's the plan, yeah, but first we want to try and summon him," Dean told him.

"That's not easy, either. But I think I have more about this in my library. How far are you from here?" he asked.

Dean looked in the general direction of the town. They weren't far from Bobby. "We can make it in a few hours," he said finally, after doing a mental claculation of the distance.

"Good, I will look through my books and will expect you two." Bobby said and ended the call.

Dean headed back to the room to see what Sam had found. He was sure his geek of a brother found something on that Patrick guy. Just as he'd expected, his brother was sitting at his laptop fully engrossed in his research. But he looked up when he heard the door open.

"So, how did the call go?" Sam asked curiously.

"Bobby will be waiting for us. He did know our guy and he said he'll look into his library for a ritual to summon him," Dean said. "And did you find anything?"

"As a matter of fact I did. But not much," Sam answered. "He died in an explosion, according to a police report. And his family was killed under strange circumstances. According to an article, he was almost charged for their murders. Both cases had gotten closed ages ago. And no rituals to summon him that I could find. But summoning a spirit straight from limbo is not that common," he sighed.

"That's not much, but it's a starting point. Now pack up. I want to start as soon as we can, 'cause I promised Bobby we would be there in a few hours. You can continue your research in the car. So hurry up, Samantha."

Sam made a face while shutting off the laptop. Dean grinned while starting to pack himself. In about ten minutes, the boys were packed and they pulled out of motel parking lot.

They traveled in silence, punctuated only by whatever rock music Dean was playing. This time, it was Metallica. But it was comfortable. The rumbling of the car and the rock music were the sounds of home to Sam ever since his childhood, so he was used to listening to them while doing research. But he couldn't find anything he didn't already know about summoning a spirit from limbo. Or more on Patrick.

He shut the laptop and let out a frustrated sigh. "There is nothing more out there on how to summon a spirit from limbo or on Patrick we don't already know," he said, frustration clear in his voice. He'd hoped to find something that would help that hunter.

Dean looked over at his brother. "At least now we know he probably died in an explosion and we still have yet to look through Bobby's books," he offered as a way to cheer his brother up.

Bobby's library was like a treasurehouse for a hunter and for a geek like Sam it was heaven. But Sam's lack of reaction was unnerving. He was staring out at the scenery passing by, not even acknowledging that Dean talked to him. Something was bothering the kid and Dean was going to find out what it was.

"Hey, we are going to help him," he said to his brother with a little more force then intended.

Sam turned his head towards him again and gave an unconvincing nod. But Dean wasn't about to complain. He would take what he could get at this point.

"You know, it still makes me wonder, what did he do to deserve this? I mean, angels aren't putting people in limbo for nothing," Sam mused aloud. "Do you think he went, you know, dark side?" he asked suddenly.

"Sam, don't go jumping to conclusions," Dean warned. "We don't know that," he said finally. "Whatever it is, it's probably not that simple anyway," he concluded.

Sam sighed and seemed to deflate. Dean hated how this case was messing with Sam's head already.

"You're right. When was anything that simple," Sam muttered.

"At least we never do anything half way." Dean said, trying to lighten the mood and was rewarded with the corners of Sam's mouth twitching upward. Small victory, but a victory nonetheless. The brothers settled back into a comfortable silence while the Impala carried them closer and closer to their destination.

When the brothers arrived at Bobby's, he was already on the porch waiting for them just as he'd said he would be. His expression was a mixture of grim and nervous. He walked up to the car as soon as the brothers had gotten out. He didn't like the sounds of what he heard. He knew Pat and knew he didn't have an evil bone in him, to hear that demons wanted him came as a shock to the grizzled hunter. Even with the fact that Pat was never the black-and-white kind of guy. Pat would never go over to the dark side.

"Hey, Bobby," the brothers greeted him, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, boys." Bobby said. "So, what is this all about?" he asked them.

The boys shared a look before Dean answered him. "Maybe we should head inside for this Bobby," he told the older hunter.

He also looked grim and Bobby knew he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear. "Well, then, come on in."

Bobby led the way into the house. He seemed uneasy and that left the boys confused. They followed him into the kitchen, where Bobby told them to sit while he got them all a drink. He had a feeling they would need it.

"So what kind of trouble did you get yourselves into?" he asked when they were settled. The brothers turned to him and Dean began tell his tale, in detail this time.


	2. No Man's Land Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Part Two**

**Part Two**

Dean was acutely aware of Bobby's unease when he relayed their latest news.

The kitchen was scarcely lit with the one naked bulb hanging over the table that held the usual books and newspapers. Yet Dean was able to see how Bobby's face got drawn and how the man's shoulders tensed as he referred the tale. At the part of Bob's less than forthcoming aid, Bobby rose and walked over to the kitchen cabinet.

Dean looked over at Sam, arching his eyebrow in a question. Sam looked just as perplexed as Dean felt.

Bobby returned with a bottle of whiskey and three small glasses, setting them down in the middle of the table before he proceeded to serve himself. He filled the glass up to the rim and downed it in one gulp.

The silence was tense and Dean was not about to break it.

Bobby looked at each of them in turn before he sat back down and re-filled his glass. "I don't think I dig your angel bud, boys."

Dean cracked a sardonic smile. "Well, I'm on board with that one. But how about the hunter. Any ideas who it may be and why his ass is stuck in Limbo?"

He didn't dare look at Sam at this point, because his brother had been dead for a week and who knew where he'd been? Dean so didn't want to trigger some memories and have Sam a shivering, nightmarish mess at this point.

"What did he do to have demons after him?" Sam inquired. "Did he turn evil at some point? What happened?"

Dean had to hold on to the table not to shake his brother. No one was turning into anything, not on his watch! But he knew that fear still rode Sam like a mare, awake or asleep, it was always there.

Bobby cast a glance at Sam and shook his head. "Pat was a good man until the end as I understand it."

Taking another sip from his glass, he settled in his chair and looked out the window while he spoke. "Pat was not like your regular hunter. He had doubts all the time, more than most hunters alow themselves to have. Didn't want there to be this much evil in the world. If nothing had happened, he'd never even have become a hunter. He was never really comfortable in the role."

Dean felt a chill in the pit of his stomach and served himself of the booze. "So what's the story?"

"Pat was happily married, had a wife and a daughter, when hell broke loose. His wife and daughter didn't make it. That changes a man, as you know."

This time, Dean looked over at Sam and his brother had ducked his head, fiddling with the tablecloth.

"How he died, nobody knows. The house he tried to purify blew up. There was an investigation and the police decided it was a gas explosion. Which is crap and we all knew it. Everybody who knew Pat, including your dad, was well aware that Pat was good at his job."

Bobby paused and Dean had to bite his tongue not to prod for more information.

"Rumors have it that something big went on inside that house that night. I don't know what exactly he was hunting at the time, but neighbors complained about strange lights and sounds that night. And those folks lived miles away. But nobody really knows what happened. Only Pat, and he took it to his grave."

"His daughter, was she ... special?" Sam asked in a low voice.

"You mean like you?" Bobby asked bluntly. "I don't think so. There was nothing strange about the family before they moved into a new house and Pat came home to find Elsie and Anne hung from the chandelier. If Pat hadn't had an alibi, he'd probably gone down for the murders but he was in another time zone at the time of their deaths. Nobody knows what happened and Pat never talked about it. Much like your dad, he did take up hunting six months later. You connect the dots."

"How did Dad know him?" Dean asked, unable to stop himself from prodding any longer. The more he found out about their father, the more he realized how little he had really known about the man.

"I brought them together for a hunt." Bobby admitted. "It was while you were too small to really get all that was going on. John didn't say much about Pat, just that he was different. You see, Patrick O'Brian, second generation Irish and as stubborn as they get, was a devout man. Went to mass every Sunday, confession and all. And he wanted so desperately to believe that there was some good in the world despite everything he'd seen. Never threw himself into a hunt without doing massive research, always ready to free rather than condemn. Sound like anyone you know?" Bobby emptied the second glass and Dean turned to look at his brother.

Sam sat there, silent, the filled glass Dean had placed in front of him untouched.

And Dean got why Bobby was so unwilling to talk about this, got it so clearly that he wanted to punch Bob for dragging them into this. And still, they had to dig into the crap, because the deeper they got into the mess, the bigger it seemed. They needed to understand what this was all about, for Sam's sake. For everybody's sake.

"We need to talk to him, Bobby. We need to get the truth about why demons want him and why angels are on his ass all of a sudden." Dean kept his eyes on Sam, waiting for Sam to look up and participate, not withdraw into silence.

"I know," Bobby replied. "I ain't liking the idea of summoning the dead, not one bit, but I get that it has to be done. Maybe we can help him find peace and move on?"

"Except angels may not want him," Sam spoke as he rose and walked from the table to stand by the window. "Angels seem pretty picky when it comes to souls."

"Sam!" Dean warned. He didn't want to hear it, not now, not ever.

"No, Dean, it's true. Angels are not what I thought they were. I don't know what to think any longer. I used to pray, every day. I bet Pat did too, and look where he ended up!" Sam's voice sounded defeated. "Seems he didn't even have demon blood. He was just persona non-grata."

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean gritted his teeth not to lash out at the injustice of the world. At what all this was doing to Sam, messing with his head, having him doubt himself and his very existence. Anything and anyone wanting his brother was fair game, angels and demons alike.

"He must have done something to piss someone off. I never prayed, not once, and look who got to be hooked to angel freaking radio? I've done my share of things that I'm sure are on the black list and still they seem to need me to screw with your head, Sammy!"

"Dean's right, son. This don't make a lick of sense." Bobby interfered. "If the demons wanted him, they should just have snatched him if he was going to hell. And I doubt it; Pat was hunting, saving people, and he was a card carrying Catholic, Holy Madonna pictures in the truck and all."

"Maybe praying ain't enough for some? Maybe doing good can never wash the evil out?" Sam said. "Limbo is where the unwanted go, right, Bobby?"

"No, Sam," Bobby's voice was softer now, almost tender as he spoke. "It's not that easy. It's not black or white. It's enough that you die unbaptized as far as the Roman Catholics used to believe. That means anyone can end up there, not baptized or not given the last rite. It has nothing to do with you being bad or good - seems more like a fluke to me. I know Pat was baptized, though, and if giving him the last rite is enough, then that's what's gonna happen if we find him."

"Maybe he can't." Sam sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Huh?" Dean furrowed his brow.

"If he left something behind, he won't be able to leave, ever. He'll be stuck where he is and he'll never find peace."

Dean closed his eyes and wondered if that was where Sam had been while dead. In no man's land, unable to leave. Was he watching while he was being burned? Was he hurting while Dean watched him go up in flames? The mere thought was nauseating.

"Sam," he paused to get his voice under control. "We'll sort it out, man. We'll help him settle and move on. You with me?"

Sam's shoulders sank and he nodded, without turning away from the window. Sam's mirror image on the window glass was too faint to give any indication of his facial expression. But the slumped shoulders, the hanging head, spoke loud and clear of defeat and misery.

Dean's stomach tightened. "There's has to be more to this than we know and we need to talk to this Pat guy."

Sam still didn't turn around, nor did he speak. He just stood there, like he was the loneliest man in the world; lost and hopeless. Dean looked at Bobby; the older man's face turned to Sam by the window, a sorrow presence that Dean just hated. It reminded him of those days without Sam, that awful sensation of having lost everything. He wasn't going back there, not ever.

"Have any fitting summoning ritual at hand, Bobby?" Dean growled. "I need to talk to this one right now!"

Bobby rose wearily. "I'll find one. You just stay put and don't go wreaking havoc by putting your heads in the lion's den without me being right there to save your asses if need be, ya hear?"

"I'll help you look," Sam said and finally turned away from the window. His face was drawn and pale, hesitance written all over him.

Dean felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit. Sam may be doubting everything at the moment, but he was not backing down and that was all Dean could ask for.

"We have work to do," Dean said he rose from the chair and led the way to Bobby's freakish library. He knew Sammy would follow.

Sam's attention wandered. He found himself reading the same page over and over and still not quite understanding what was written on the faintly age-yellowed pages. He didn't want to remember the feeling of wandering in no man's land. Looking for Dean, not understanding what was going on. Then finding him just to have to watch his brother mourn while feeling totally useless - Dean's sorrow had felt like a literal punch to Sam's gut. He remembered watching him, needing to reach out and console him, tell him it was all right, he was fine. There had been this strange, bodyless sensation, but he remembered how freaked out he'd been. Remembered the pain on Dean's face.

Was Patrick O'Brian as out of the loop as he had been? How much did he understand, how much did he feel? Was he too, forced to watch from afar, knowing it was all his fault for being stupid? Who had he left behind? Who did he owe?

"Sam? You zoning out on me?"

Sam jumped at Dean's voice and lied: "No."

"Right, Captain Obvious," Dean quipped but didn't prod further. There were still things they both avoided like the plague.

"I don't get why we just don't use one of the everyday summoning of the dead rituals? If every damned psychic can call on Grandma Moses and her cat, why can't we?" Dean shuffled impatiently through a book, shifting his feet, crossed at the ankles on the table.

"'Cause we don't wanna meet Grandma Moses and her cat?" Sam innocently pointed out while turning the page.

"We should call Missouri!" Dean's face lit up in a devilish grin. "She'll probably know."

"It's 2 AM, Dean, you really wanna wake Missouri up at this time of night? You itching to make a close encounter with her wooden spoon?" Sam rapidly skimmed through the page and found nothing.

"I'll let you and your puppy eyes take care of Missouri's spoon, dude. I just want some damn intel and get on with this freakin' show." Dean hurled a paper he'd been scribbling on in the general direction of the trash bin, which was already surrounded by an amazing amount of balled paper. Sam was sure Dean missed on purpose because he knew it would end in somebody tidying up after him. Most likely his little brother, Sam crunched his nose irritably. Just to be able to mock said brother about his OCD. Patience had never been Dean's virtue and right now he was about to burst in his seams from the inactivity.

"Lion's den, Dean, lion's den," Sam reminded and then his eyes caught on a passage that seemed plausible. Reading through it more carefully, it seemed to fit the bill. "Dean, I think I got it!"

"Yeah?" Dean pulled his feet off the table between them and scooted over to have a closer look.

"No dead corpses or newborn babies needed? What's the trick?" Dean huffed.

Sam handed the book over and pointed to the section.

Dean frowned. "Translation, professor!"

"It's really simple and it serves to calls for a specific, uh, lost soul. Those sigils need to be made in blood but it's all right with any kind of blood. No restriction of time and place, either. I think it might work. It's just that one line in there that I'm really not gung-ho happy about."

"Better than the last I found that entailed a lunar eclipse and five dead in a row. So what's the line?" Dean squinted his eyes and feigned to read. Sam knew he wasn't really trying and took the book back.

"This one here that says; _'I succumb to your will, oh mighty, and render my soul to the service of the powers that reign'._ Pretty close to downright selling your soul, that one."

Dean glared at him, shaking his head. "That leaves you out of the summoning, Sammy. I'm not liking you with this one. Powers that reign? What powers are those? Nope, Sammy, you're out of this one."

Sam glared right back, swatting Dean's shoulder. "You honestly believe I'm letting the two of you do this one alone while I do the dishes? Somebody's gonna save your asses."

Dean reached for the book, causing Sam to almost topple off the couch as he kept the book as far away as possible.

"No way, bitch. Hand it over. This one goes back where it belongs - in a dusty pile."

"Hey!" Sam peeled and wedged himself away from Dean's grabby hands. "You'd rather go snatch some newborns for the ritual?"

They were both halfway to the floor, fighting for the book, when Bobby's footsteps came down the stairs.

"Bobby, I got one," Sam shouted in a half-suffocated voice, thanks to Dean's knee on the small of his back, pressing his chest to the armrest.

"Oh, shut up, Sammy." Dean grunted with one last lunge for the book before Sam got the upper hand and twisted his legs enough to have his jerk of a brother lose balance and land on the floor.

Sam was up off the couch and by Bobby's side before Dean got his breath back enough for another tackle. "Look, I think it'll work and it's the most doable one I've found so far."

Bobby took the book out of his hand and read though the passage. Then he looked back and forth between the two of them. Dean was now standing by Sam's side, a fisted grip on his shirt collar. "You done trying to demolish my house now?"

"Not before I've kicked his ass," Dean promised. "I don't like it, Bobby. We do this one only if Sam's ass is locked up, good."

"I'll be in the kitchen doing some actual work," Bobby rolled his eyes at them. "I even think I have blood in the freezer."

"Don't even ask," Dean grinned before Sam had the time to open his mouth.

Sam didn't even put up fight, he just went boneless and let Dean wrestle him to the floor before he retaliated by sticking his fingers in his brother's ribs. Sometimes they really were twelve.

\- o -

The morning sun was stark on Bobby's eyes when he returned from his trip to get what they needed. He heard the loud voices as soon as he shut the engine off. The boys were at it again. They'd discussed the pro and cons, very loudly, half the night until he finally got them to settle for the night, which was more like seven in the morning. Crazy kids.

Turned out he didn't have blood in the freezer and he had to wait until the local butcher opened shop to get some. He'd known leaving those two alone was asking for trouble. Finding the house still intact was a relief.

With a sigh, he gripped the plastic bottle and headed for the house. Dean was in grand form today and had a long list of reasons why Sam should be excluded. Sam had an equally long list of why he needed to be right there by his brother's side. Why the two of them even bothered bitching was beyond Bobby. Nothing would hold Sam back, and Dean knew it. They didn't have Winchester blood running in their veins for naught.

He slammed the door shut behind him to alert the idjits he was back, hoping his mere presence would calm the waters.

It did, for about five minutes. The moment he put the plastic canteen and the grocery bag on the counter, Dean had gotten his second wind.

"Bobby, tell him that he can't be a part of this!"

Bobby sighed.

"Says who?" Sam retaliated. "It's a simple summoning, man. You're overreacting."

"Tell you what Sammy, I'm so not salting and burning your ass again, ever. You said it yourself; you don't like the giving your soul over. Well, guess what, I don't like one freaking thing about this deal."

There was the sound of the scraping of chairs over the floor and Sam's voice was suddenly at a higher pitch.

"I watched Alistair torture you! I thought I'd have nothing left to bury at all! If you think I'm letting you go there, all trigger happy and death defying, you're a certifiable jerk. Lock me up, tie me down, do whatever you want. I memorized the ritual, I'll follow your delusional ass whatever you do."

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

Bobby turned and watched Sam towering over Dean. The glare contest was on and no one was backing off.

"I've had it with you two," Bobby spoke tiredly. "Another word out of either of you and I'll lock you both down and do it myself. Got that?"

Both Winchesters turned to glare at him.

"We do this together and we sort it out together. We leave no one behind, ever. We get the intel, send Pat's soul to peace and come right back here to right what else is wrong. We handle whatever comes along, coz' we've have work to do."

Both boys deflated.

"Now, get carving sticks with the needed symbols while I defrost the cow-blood and make us dinner. I ain't going there on an empty stomach."

"Best idea anybody's had today," Dean muttered and dragged Sam out to carve two dozen wood sticks.

Bobby watched them walk away and he wondered if they were even aware of how close they stayed even when ready to rip each other a new one. Like letting the other out of their sight was unthinkable.

"Idjits," Bobby muttered and filled the sink with warm water.

When the sun descended, they went out and raked a circle in the still spring-wet sand, behind a pile of scrap metal and frames of abandoned cars still not totally stripped of spare parts. They worked in silence, the evening chilly but calm enough to allow the candles to burn undisturbed.

Dean watched Sam measure up the three feet between each carved stick of wood. His brother had grown quiet and twitchy: tell-tale signs of unease. Dean still wanted him locked up behind bars for this thing, but he also knew his brother was stubborn enough to never admit to being scared. And the more Dean ranted on him, the worse it all got. He should know, since he'd lived most of his life with the bitch.

Dean used a compass to place the four black candles just right. He was not going to be the one to light them, though. Putting anything to fire still bothered him and even more so at this point. Stretching his legs, he turned to his brother: "Sam?"

"Huh?"

Sam put the last stick in place and stepped back to admire his work.

"This Pat dude...I know what you're thinking, but that's not true." He was being cryptic on purpose, knowing Sam would get exactly what he meant without him having to spell it out. Because he didn't want to spell it out, he didn't want to face it.

On the surface, it might seem Sam and this Patrick O'Brian were dangerously alike. Always seeing the gray shades, always doubting and needing to be sure that what they killed was evil enough to deserve it. Always questioning, to the point of risking their own lives. Sam had lost his, believing that goodness would prevail. Trusting a man who shared his freakish fate, powers and all, wanting him to be good, paying the steepest of prices for that trust.

Sam turned to him, head ducked enough for his hair to cover his eyes. "Whatever happens, Dean, you save your and Bobby's asses, got that?"

Dean smiled sadly . How many times had they been over this by now? And still they never got past where they'd started off. Ready to sacrifice everything.

"However this freaking gig turns out, what it's is all about, or part of, whatever Bob says or does - there's something our Patty-boy didn't have, Sammy. An awesome big brother who will kick some serious ass."

"You mean a stubborn hothead who doesn't know when to back off?" Sam looked up at him from under the bangs. A hint of a smile visible in the increasing darkness.

Dean grinned and swatted at Sam's shoulder. "You've got it, bitch!"

Sam parried the hand, the smile finally reaching his eyes. "Jerk."

Sam's visible relief settled Dean's own ragged nerves and he reached for the canister of blood to make the signs in the sand.

At midnight, they placed themselves around the small fire in the middle of the circle and gripped each other's wrists. For a man mumbling about stupid girly hand holding rituals, Dean's grip was pure steel.

Sam shivered slightly and Dean's fingers clamped down even harder, hard enough for the blunt nails to dig into his skin.

When Bobby started the recital, Sam closed his eyes and whispered the words in unison with the older man.

At the line of rendering control to the reigning powers, the wind picked up and sand blew up into Sam's face with speed enough to make him feel like every grain grated his skin. A howl deafened him and he lost the grip on Bobby's and Dean's wrists. The air seemed too thin to breathe, the earth under his feet gave way and he was free-falling, screaming for Dean as he grappled air to find his brother.

Then the darkness was total and he opened his eyes at a cough somewhere in the distance.

"Dean?" His voice was panicked as he pulled himself up to stand on shaking legs. "Bobby?"

"You two knuckleheads all right?" Bobby's voice was right behind him and Sam turned on his heels when a hand closed around his upper arm.

Dean was sitting on the ground, face set in a pissed off smirk. "What the hell, Bobby? You could have arranged first class. What was that all about?"

He grunted and rose to his feet when Sam gripped at his brother's coat and pulled. Still shaky, Sam just held on while Dean looked around.

"So where exactly is this?"

Sam already knew. He felt it in his bones. Nothing of this was real, everything was too gray and dim, too ethereal and edgeless. But he didn't want to say it, not out loud.

Bobby drew a quick breath and Sam clasped his hand harder in Dean's coat when he turned his head.

The figure looked to be in his forties or early fifties. The hair had started graying around the temples, and the weather-beaten face spoke of a hard living. The eyes were a pale blue and they spoke of sorrow and a thousand deaths combined. Sam knew who this was without asking.

"The Winchester boys and Bobby Singer? What did you do? How did you end up here?"

Patrick O'Brian's voice sounded fittingly grave as he spoke.


	3. No Man's Land Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Part Three**

**Part Three**

"Pat?" Bobby asked disbelieving. "Is that you?" he stammered.

"Long time no see, huh?" Patrick replied. "And I presume you are John's sons," he said, turning to the boys. "But how did you end up here of all places?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"It was a spell," Sam spoke up. "We came to help you," he continued. But judging by the puzzled expression on Patrick's face, he doubted the former hunter understood their intentions.

"Why would you want to help me? No one's tried before." Patrick sounded actually surprised and a little sad. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean beat him to it.

"Look, Bobby and we need to talk for bit, but don't worry, we won't be leaving you alone for long." Dean spoke while grabbing onto Bobby's and Sam's arms. They had some serious talking to do. Especially if they were going to find out how to help Patrick move on and get the hell out of this creepy place. The others followed him.

"All right, so what do we do?" Dean asked. "The freakin' spell was supposed to bring him to us, not the other way around!"

"Well, ain't you got the knack for pointing out the obvious. This turn of events wasn't even mentioned in that damned book," Bobby grumbled. "This kinda throws everything for a loop."

"And how do we get back?" Sam asked the even more important question.

"What, you two related or something? Just hang on while I figure out how to save all our asses. No wait, where do we turn for intel?" Bobby answered, feigning to think.

"Great, so now _we_ are stuck here. Some saviors," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"Maybe Bob can get us out. After all, he put Patrick in here," Sam shrugged. "Until then, we need to ask Patrick what happened. It's why we came here to begin with," he continued.

"Right." The others agreed. It was the best plan they had for now.

Then they turned back to Patrick, who watched the exchange curiously and a little wearily. They couldn't blame him for that.

"So, can you tell us what happened? I mean, how you got here?" Sam asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"The angels put me here as a form of punishment." Patrick simply stated. "I helped them with demons and this is how they repaid me, so to speak. It happened in a house. We trapped the demons and I was supposed to exorcise them and send them back to hell. But I… hesitated."

He sounded unsure and hesitant. "The demons broke loose and the angels had to smite them. Along with the hosts. They blamed me for hesitating and they punished me by putting me here forever after I died." He finished his tale in a low voice, watching the graying ground under his feet.

But to the others, it was obvious there was more than that. They knew Patrick was willing to see shades of grey where others weren't.

After a few seconds, Bobby spoke up in order to prod for clarification. "But there is something else too, right?" he verbally nudged the hunter.

Patrick looked uncomfortable.

"Pat?" Bobby asked a little more forcefully.

Pat gave a sigh, but answered. "Those demons. They were not here to kill or destroy. They just wanted to blend in. That's why I hesitated. You know me Bobby, I am not black and white, I never was. But the angels were adamant that they were demons, so they were evil. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. And with that, I caused even more trouble." His voice expressed deep remorse.

The brothers looked at each other. They didn't know how to process this. Patrick was following his own heart and was willing to give demons the benefit of the doubt, but all it had gotten him was being cast in this godforsaken place as a punishment.

"But how did it happen exactly? I mean, we hardly know anything about that night," Bobby said, wanting to know all the details. He had a hard time digesting all this, too. He wasn't a believer, but he couldn't imagine the angels doing this. Especially to someone who'd had as strong a faith as Patrick had.

"Well, you'd all better sit down then. It's not easy, and I take full blame for being here, I do. I still don't know if I would have done things differently if I'd known, though." Patrick motioned with his hand before he began to tell his tale.

"I wasn't even after the demons myself. I was there to get rid of a nasty poltergeist. I was already finished with that hunt and wanted to move on. But I made the mistake of going to a bar. All of a sudden, two strangers approached me, saying there was something else to hunt in the place."

 _Patrick was sitting on one of the bar stools. He thought he would celebrate tonight before leaving, since he'd completed his job successfully. And he had lived to fight another day, so this counted as something to be grateful for in his book. He was so engrossed in his beer he didn't hear the two strangers approaching him, only looking up when he heard throat clearing._

 _The two guys looked quite the pair. One of them was dressed…well, weird for the lack of better term, and the other one looked as if he just stepped out of an old detective story. They both looked older than him._

 _"Can I help you?" he asked, rather curious on what these stangers would want from him._

 _"Actually, yes we think you can_   
_,"_   
_Private eye replied. "We know you are a hunter," he continued._

 _Patrick raised an eyebrow. He didn't say a word, but all of a sudden he was wary. Hunters were not known to the common man and those who new about them_   
_tended_   
_to listen more to rumors than facts._

 _"Relax, we are not here to harm you. We need your help. There is something here that needs to be hunted."_

 _This time,_ _it was the guy in the weird clothes who interjected and extended his hand to shake Patrick's._

 _"My name is Bob and my partner here is Jack_   
_,"_   
_He said with a friendly grin._

 _Patrick took his hand and shook it._

 _"Patrick. Patrick O'Brian."_

"Of course, I didn't know they were angels and they set the whole thing up." Patrick sounded bitter.

This surprised everyone. Of course the angels were not the most forthcoming creatures on the planet, everyone knew that, but angels willing to con others into doing their dirty work? That was new.

"Anyway, we went outside and they filled me in on the details about the hunt. They said there were demons in the area. I agreed to help them; I am not one to let down my fellow men. They asked me to do some research and I did. I looked the site up, and it turned out they were possessing a couple. The same couple I helped with the poltergeist. But I couldn't find anything matching them to killings or any kind of other evil acts."

Patrick took a deep breath, obviously lost in his memories, then he continued his tale.

"When I asked their friends, they all told me they did nothing out of the ordinary. They seemed like ordinary people to everybody I talked to and I hadn't seen anything odd with them either. No black eyes as long as I was around them, no suspicious business. For demons, they were squeaky clean. They never hurt anybody. In fact, if Bob and Jack hadn't mentioned it, no one would have known what they were."

"I know demons usually want to blend in, but they are still here to cause death and destruction. These weren't. I could tell, they just wanted to blend in. Why, I'm still not sure. Maybe they just wanted to escape hell and find somewhere to hide? When the research was done, we agreed to go to the house. But I argued and said we talk to them first. The angels just told me demons aren't willing to talk and wouldn't listen to reason since they were angels. I believed them. So we went in, we trapped them and started the exorcism."

 _Tim and Claire—no,_   
_the demons, he corrected,_   
_were already inside a devils trap and tied up. Their cries echoed through the room as the exorcism started to take effect._

 _"Stop, please, we didn't hurt anyone," the demon that wore Tim begged while his mate was crying next to him. "We just want some peace and quiet."_

 _"Shut up!" Jack dismissed him._

 _"Wait a minute. Maybe we should stop." Patrick watched the couple. They weren't like the demons he'd met before, and he was starting to think that maybe he wasn't doing the right thing by killing them. He hunted evil, not merely_   
_supernatural beings. There was always that thin line to be considered. And this, this was too odd even for him._

 _"Patrick, these are demons. And demons are evil. I thought you knew that," Bob said, looking at him disapprovingly. "And we have a job to do here," he reminded him. "Saving people!"_

 _"I have a job, too, and that's hunting evil. These demons, weird as it is, they aren't evil, they haven't done anything evil. I just don't know, it's not that easy." Patrick was stubborn as a mule himself when he needed to be._

 _But a noise to their right cut off the conversation. The demons were outside of the broken devil's trap, ready to bolt. But Bob had stopped them with a flick of his hand. Both of the demons were tossed into a wall. Patrick gasped audibly in surprise. He realized that these men weren't your ordinary, everyday hunters. They didn't even seem to be human._

 _"What the hell?" he said, backing away._

 _Jack and Bob turned towards him. "It's okay, Patrick. We are not demons," Bob tried to explain._

 _"Then what are you?" Patrick asked, his voice laced with disbelief._

 _"We are angels. We were sent to kill these demons here." Jack said. "We need to finish the exorcism."_

 _But Patrick had a hard time believing. They were angels? He hadn't thought of them like this. He thought angels were merciful and rightful beings. And certainly powerful enough to not need an ordinary hunter like himself to do the work. Why lie to him, manipulate him and try to get him to do something that was against his beliefs? The fifth commandment stated it clearly; "Thou shalt not kill." It was just as clear as the commandment stating not to lie._

 _"No," he said . "I am sorry, but I can't do it."_

 _The angels stared at him._

 _Patrick just shook his head. His answer was final._

 _Too caught up in their argument, none of them noticed the demons trying to escape. They made it almost to the door, hosts and all before Jack noticed and yelled: "They're getting away!"_

 _Bob raised his hand and Patrick thought he was going to toss them back again like he did before, but something else happened. The demons stopped in their tracks and froze, seemingly in fear. The house began to shake, furniture and debris falling all over the place and a bright light began to shoot out from Bob's hand. Patrick looked on in awe. He didn't know angels could do that. The bright light filled the room and with it an unbearable heat that consumed everything._

 _That was Patrick's last memory alive. He knew the house blew up and he was sure he burned to a crisp._

In silence they all sat quietly, digesting what Pat had told them.

"So the angels blamed you for everything that happened?" Sam finally spoke up in a small voice.

"Yes. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a court of some kind. Bob and Jack were there too. The hosts turned up, freed of the demons, along with the demons and they blamed me, or rather my hesitation for this and as a form of punishment, they placed me here."

 _Patrick found himself summoned into the courtroom again. He was kind of used to it by now, but it still felt so surreal. The whole death thing felt surreal. And to top it off, he was the one blamed for it._

 _"So the court has decided on the fate of the soul of Patrick O'Brian." The judge said._

 _Patrick knew whatever they decided_ , _it couldn't be good. Bob and Jack stood a few feet away. They looked at him back with piercing, accusing eyes when Patrick glanced at them. And Patrick just didn't understand what was going on. Why was he the one blamed, when he was the one lied to, manipulated—by angels no less—and he only fought for what he believed in._

 _Humans were not the judges of good or evil. They had failed so many times when they'd tried. Too many had been considered evil when they were just different. He knew those demons didn't want any harm, but he was no fool, he was a hunter and he killed evil things. If those demons would have been evil,_   
_killing and hurting people, he would have exorcised them without a second thought. He wouldn't have let any evil beings stay alive;_   
_they had to know that. But being different was not being evil._

 _The judge continued. "Patrick O'Brian is found guilty of denying the request of two angels of the Lord in aiding in the exorcism of two demons and with that, directly causing a dire situation where the angels needed to take unnecessarily harsh actions, causing the death of the two humans the demons were possessing. He is sentenced to be cast into Limbo, for eternity or until his case has merit."_

 _The judge's voice boomed across the room. Patrick felt shocked and disappointed. There were no other words. He was disappointed in the angels and in heaven. This couldn't have been what he was praying to._

 _"Do you have anything to say?" the judge asked._

 _Patrick merely shook his head. He had no words to add; there was nothing to say when all he'd ever believed in turned out to be what he had fought against to begin with; injustice._

"So, anything else you want to know about what happened?" Patrick asked, finishing his tale and looking at the others. There was a stunned silence after his words. No one knew what to say. They couldn't really fault Patrick for what he did and they found his punishment unjustifiably harsh. Was that really the way heaven went? Asking for blind obedience?

The brothers were lost in their own thoughts as they digested what they just heard. It hit close to home in more ways than one. This was what John had always told them: that there were no gray tones, evil was evil, as simple as that. John had not fared well either. He never believed in angels, not after what happened to Mary. He regarded angels just as evil as anything they hunted. The brothers and Bobby didn't trust them fully either. But they never thought them to be evil. They couldn't believe angels would do that. Yet, they lied and manipulated and then forced a human, a hunter but still a human, to do their dirty work. And then they blamed him and punished him by putting him here for good.

 _What kind of angel does that?_ Sam thought. He asked himself the exact question Patrick O'Brian had: "Was this what he'd been praying to all this time?" He shared a look with Dean. His brother looked like he was thinking along the same lines.

Dean felt the look and lowered his head. He trusted Bob and worked with him. To have it confirmed that Bob had this side to him was unnerving. He was starting to like Bob. Not that the fact that angels were dicks needed to be confirmed in the first place. They were certainly not there for them when they needed them. And they were screwing up their lives now even more than they already were.

"And the demons? What are they doing here?" Sam finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

"They come sometimes, but not very often until lately. They're promising to get me out of here. I still say no, though, every time. They promise me power and revenge. I guess that constitutes justice for them." Patrick replied.

"But what would demons want from a spirit?" Sam turned to Bobby, who had been silent until now.

"He was a hunter, a great one at that. His knowledge would definitely come in handy for the demons. Other than that, I have no idea," Bobby answered. He was just as puzzled. But they all knew demons didn't want to get Patrick out of here out of the goodness of their hearts. With the oncoming apocalypse, the demons probably needed all the hands they could get on board. And a hunter who didn't trust, maybe even _hated_ angels, would make a great ally for them. That was a no-brainer.

"They are only trying to survive what's coming," Patrick said. "At least, that's what they told me. And they don't care how they do that, even if it means collaborating with the enemy," he added.

That sounded just like demons.

But Patrick was not finished. "I met John, too. He said the same thing."

That got everyone's attention. Bobby and the Winchesters shared an equally stunned and worried look. That wasn't good.

"Did he say anything else?" Dean decided to finally speak up.

"He said he needed my help, just like the others before him. He also told me about you two," Patrick said, looking at Sam and Dean. "Told me that he asked for your help too and you weren't very willing to help him, or accept his help. He said he just wants his sons by his side. He told me you are on the angels' side. Is that true?"

"We are not on anybody's side. We're just trying to stop the whole thing from happening," Dean re-assured.

"Forgive me, but I have a hard time believing you. How else would you know I am here? No one really knows what happened that night or what happened to me afterward." Patrick eyed them with distrust.

Dean sighed. This was much harder than he'd originally thought. "Yes, we are working with the angels," he admitted. "We know about you from Bob. But we aren't trusting them any more than you do. They just come in handy at times."

He tried to sound reassuring. At least this was the truth. Well, mostly. He didn't want to spook Patrick even more with his "angel radio." Patrick was already looking at them with more suspicion and distrust than before. _Mentioning Bob is probably not the greatest idea when he was the one who put the ex-hunter here. Crap,_ Dean thought.

Patrick paled at the mentioning of Bob's name. If he'd had any doubts on whether he should trust them or not, he was sure he shouldn't trust them now. The Winchesters and Bob collaborating and then showing up here couldn't mean anything good. John was right. The boys were on the angels' side.

"Patrick, do you trust me?" Bobby suddenly asked. "If you do, then believe me, these boys and I are not here to hurt you and we don't trust Bob. We are not doing anything for him." He'd known Pat, longer than he'd known John. He hoped he could get through to him, let him know they didn't come here on the angels' behalf. He would never hurt Pat and he knew the Winchesters felt the same.

"I want to Bobby, I do. But how do you explain you being here and Bob being involved in any other way than that for some reason, the angels are after me, again?" he asked.

"We just want to help you." Sam spoke up. "With the demons coming here, you're not safe. They want you and your knowledge, you have to know that." He pleaded; they needed him to trust them.

"It's not like angels are any better." Patrick said bitterly.

"But we aren't working with them now. It's not like they are our favorite things, in the universe either," Dean pointed out. "This is getting us nowhere," he sighed. "The famous rock and hard place all over."

"They are right, Pat, we're not _with_ anybody we're trying to stop all this," Bobby intervened. "And we have to get out of here before demons come around to knock us on our asses."

"And how do we do that again?" Dean asked with a smirk. "Last time I checked, there were no angels to bring us out of here. Any ideas how do we contact them, or should we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs, waiting until one decides to show up?" He looked at the others, but there was only silence. No one seemed to have an answer.

"And here I thought you said you wanted to get me out of here." Patrick's voice broke the silence and it dripped of sarcasm.

Dean had to grin: another trait Patrick shared with Sam.

"I supposed if you know how you got here, you know how to get out," Patrick stated, looking at them.

"Well, the spell didn't quite work out the way we thought it would," Bobby huffed. "It was supposed to bring you to us, not the other way around."

"So there is no way back for you, either," Patrick stated. "That's just wonderful angelical irony, don't you think?"

Patrick shook his head. It meant that they indeed needed the angels to bring them out of there. And he knew the heavenly creatures would never allow him to go away just like that. He felt hopeless. "I knew it sounded too good to be true," he said and then stood up and started to walk away.

"Wait, Pat, wait! We will think of something." Bobby shouted running after him. He caught up and grabbed Patrick by the arm. "Pat, please, don't give up on us like that." He had to resort to begging, he hated it, but this was his friend. Who was ready to give up.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" Patrick asked. "You say you want to get me out of here, but you don't know how to get out. You say you work with angels, and you don't trust them, but you still come here to get me. In your own words, Bobby, it doesn't make a lick of sense," he said while gesticulating wildly with his hands. He was angry. Angry at Bobby and the Winchesters for coming here and not thinking of a way back. Angry at the angels for putting him here, too, but most of all angry at himself for putting himself in this situation and dragging others into it.

Bobby was frustrated with his friend. But if he were honest, he couldn't blame him for his mistrust.

"I swear, you are more stubborn than John, and that's an accomplishment," he muttered and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Getting angry wasn't going to get them anywhere.

"Look, did you stop to think why we wanted to know what happened to you? How _I_ felt when I heard about it? Then this? Learning you died and ended up here? With no way of knowing what really happened? And now we know it's all because of angels? Have I ever let you down when it counted?" Bobby forced Patrick to turn to face him.

"No." Patrick said. "You didn't. Neither did John, that's true period." Patrick lifted his head to meet with Bobby's eyes.

"I just don't want to end up used by the angels like the last time," he admitted, sounding miserable.

"I know, but we are not here to use you for anything." Bobby reassured him. "We would never do that." He hoped he got through to his friend. They needed to get out of here and fast.

Bobby hadn't even noticed that they had been left alone in the grayness, Sam and Dean having retreated to confer.

He looked back at the boys in the mist.

"Patrick, listen to me. Those boys are good hunters, they are about as hard-headed as you are. They won't give up on any of us. They are Winchesters and they never quit."


	4. No Man's Land Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Part Four**

**Part Four**

Dean dragged Sam away from the commotion. "Dude, we need to talk!"

Sam stumbled behind him as Dean walked briskly over the uneven terrain. Sure of himself, if nothing made sense about this place. The grayness under their feet seemed even but the moment they put their feet down, the ground shifted under them and they had to fight to stay upright. Dean had learned to take strides on pure instinct, without looking where he put his feet, just balancing as he walking along. Sam wasn't fairing so well: he was still trying to put his feet just right and consequently, he stumbled. The screwed-up-ness was surely telling them something, but Dean wasn't exactly sure what.

"We can't leave—"Sam huffed behind him and Dean stopped to turn to his brother.

"Sam, this is all insane. Angels and demons clashing before? A man with a creed helping them out and getting ganked for it? Where were these dicks when you got iced? You pray, Sammy. You do believe in something greater, in God. Why wasn't anybody there for you?"

Sam looked over his shoulder at the two they had left behind. "I don't know what to believe any longer. I'm not sure I even believe that angels can be that ruthless. Killing a man because he tried to help someone out? I don't understand any of this."

He turned back to Dean and there was so much sorrow in his eyes that, for a moment, Dean thought he was staring into Patrick's O'Brian's.

"Is that why you couldn't move on, Sammy? Because you lost faith? Because nobody was there for you in the end?" Dean had never had faith, not like Sam, knowing that his brother had lost so much already … thinking about Sammy not having hope anymore just about killed him.

"Dean, you were there for me." Sam's eyes were earnest as they seemed to bore into his own. "I remember things vaguely but the one thing I remember is you being there. I remember that. I remember how you mourned and hating myself for not being able to reach out and tell you it was all right to let me go."

Dean had to grip Sam's collar and tug at it. Just to assure himself that Sammy truly was there. That he wasn't lost all over. That his little pain in the ass brother was about the only real thing he had in this screwed up mess. "Dude, no chick-flick moments."

Sam grinned and swatted Dean's hand away. Then he looked back at the men they had left behind in the gray fog and his voice fell an octave when he spoke. "How to we get this dude out of here, Dean? How do _we_ get out of here?"

Sometimes Dean really hated Sam and his questions. His brother always had the logical ones at hand, ready to whip out in the most unlikely of situations. And Dean never had the answers. "I don't know man."

He turned to look at Pat and Bobby. They were barely distinguishable in the thick fog-like air that felt stagnant and damp. The thought of staying here forever and wandering in this colorless world without ever getting anywhere had him shivering. He'd rather have a daily fight with any sons of bitches than this. It was beyond eerie. There was this sense of desperation that was slowly invading him, threatening to take over and have him succumb. To what, he wasn't exactly sure, he just knew it wasn't good.

"It would help if we knew how you got out from wherever you—" He had to bite his tongue. That wasn't supposed to have slipped out. That was something else they didn't talk about. Other whys that were still too painful to address.

"I know, Dean. I wish I had some magic mojo to get us and Pat out of here, period." Sam sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets. "I guess all we can rely on is faith that this will end well. Or that the ritual has a time limit and we'll get our asses kicked back when it wears off or something."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I take the wearing off above any kind of faith at this point, dude!"

"I figured," Sam sighed. "I was kinda hoping you'd get hungry enough to put you faith in getting some pie and it'd become infuriating enough for what keeps us here to give up and let you have some damned pie. I've been on the receiving end of your constant whining about needing pie. That or the mullet rock might be the trigger to drive someone insane enough to kick you out."

"Oh, shut up, Sammy! Now you made me hungry. I can almost smell that apple pie from back east, what was that town again? Where that old Dolores …" he paused, trying to remember and had to give up on the name. "Dolores-something chick served that cinnamon whipped cream with it. It was heaven."

Sam snorted sarcastically. "See, you do have faith. In pie. No pie around here though."

"Pie's never let me down, dude!" Dean boxed his brother's arm and then he remembered. Before he lost Sam, the last thing he'd said to his brother was: "Bring me some pie!" He'd asked for pie and lost his brother. He stared at Sam, shuddering.

"What?" Sam asked perplexed.

"I asked for pie just before you vanished. Forget the freaking pie, we're stuck!"

"No!" Sam took a step up to him staring at him. lit up his face. "That's it, Dean." Sam's arms came up, gesturing widely. "Don't you see? You found me you didn't give up, you stuck to it and found me."

"Yeah? You died, Sammy! You bought the farm right in front of me." Dean snarled. "Big freaking hooray for getting it."

"I came back, Dean! I'm right here. And you know why? Because you had faith in yourself! You turned to Bobby, got some help and you found me and I am here. That's what we need to do, man. We need to give Pat back his belief in himself. Give him back hope!"

"That's a Hallmark movie Sammy, not Limbo." Sometimes his brother was just a little bit too trusting and downright naive.

"No, ," Sam shook his head. "That's all there is, really. You trust what you know. You never lose faith in that. You hang on to what little hope there is and you fight. That's what Pat needs to do. He needs to believe in something, not angels or demons but something like love and family. He had a wife and a daughter. That's where he belongs and he needs to believe that he deserves to be with them. That's what he's gotta hang on to."

Dean looked at his brother. The sudden vivacity of his face. The hope in his eyes, Dean knew he was right. He'd never lost faith in his own psychic emo brother, not even when things got rough. And Sam had been there for him always. Sam was what had him always clinging to life. Whatever crap was going on, as long as Sam was around, he'd fight.

The explosion of sounds came from nowhere and the darkness got thicker in the blink of an eye.

Dean turned his eyes back to the pair they'd left behind and the sight had him drawing a deep breath. He gripped Sam's coat sleeve when his brother pivoted.

"Demons," Sam whispered and Dean caught the fear in his voice. The same fear that was twisting his own gut.

Then they were flung forward.

Sam opened his eyes slowly. The terrain that had given way under his feet before was now hard rocks and sharp edges that dug into his back. There was black smoke all around him; sitting on his chest, the smell of sulfur pungent. The demon laughed at him, rattling his bones in the process. It was hard to breathe, the smell making him want to gag and the weight giving little room for his lungs to expand.

"Dean? Bo—?" His voice was garbled and the moment he got a sound out of him, the demons drew even closer, wheezing at him to shut up.

"Your filthy-mouthed brother is a little tied up, Samuel."

It seemed like the demons were nestled into his body and mind. Poking and prodding, insisting on something that was beyond Sam's grasp. They let him hear only snippets of conversation, about hell's fires and the torture his brother would sustain if he didn't convince the former hunter to side with them. There was no other sounds to be heard and still the message seared through him with crystal clarity. From inside his mind.

"No, no, no," Sam groaned, pushing to get away from the weight on his chest. He tried using telekinesis on the black smoke but his powers only cause a rift in the black cloud. It laughed, with a sharp clattering sound that bounced around inside his skull. It re-formed and resumed its position over his chest, now in a thicker mass of black, with clearly visible smoke tentacles that sneaked around his neck and squeezed.

"Stay still, lad! Don't move."

Pat's voice was near, but Sam couldn't see him. He vainly tensed his muscles and tried to roll away. The grip around his neck lessened as the cloud sent him another message that the demons had Dean and Bobby and had better do what they asked of him. Sam looked at and shook his head. The laughter exploded inside him again and the band around his neck tightened.

"Where's D'n?" Sam got out before the air was totally squeezed out of him.

"Right here, as deep in it as you are," Pat spoke. "They are trying to get me to side with them by turning the three of you inside out. Doing a fine job at it too. I wish they'd take on me instead. I think I deserve it. You don't."

"No, , don't listen to them!" Dean's voice, garbled enough to let Sam know he was still alive.

The moment his brother spoke, the weight on Sam's chest lessened and he just knew where it had gone to and he took the opportunity to claw himself to his feet. He turned toward the black smoke around Dean, was splayed out on the ground, only a few feet from him, with Bobby at his other side. Both pinned to the ground by smoke.

Sam fought for air and concentrated to put what little energy he had left in dispersing the hostless demons. Rip them apart and kill them if possible.

The demons were on him in an instant and he found himself face first in the unforgiving grayness. All the air he had managed to inhale was pressed out and red spots danced under his closed eyelids.

While fighting to open his eyes and remain conscious, he heard Dean draw a deep, shaky breath. "Look, the only way outta here for you to forgive yourself."

The demons were frantic now. They went off to torment Dean. Sam felt bones rattle from the force with which he was picked up and hurled back down. Patrick's face hovered over him for a moment, eyes wide from petrified shock. The plan was working, the man was about to give his soul over to save them, the ones who'd set out to save him. Sam would laugh at the irony if he had any air left in his lungs. All he managed was to mouth a no to the man staring at him in overt horror.

But they had forgotten about Bobby, and Bobby had picked up a lot from a few words alone.

"The only faith you need now, Pat, is in yourself."

Bobby's voice was cracked by pain and Sam knew this was it. Dean whimpered in the distance and Sam reached his breaking point. As certain as the air was being squeezed out of him and left him powerless he knew this was the end. As clearly as he heard his own bones break while it felt like he was being slowly dismembered. The demons promised Patrick O'Brian peace if he'd said yes. Promised to put the three of them back together. Heal them and send them all back, save their souls from the former hunter's fate.

Between the loud screams, the whimpers and the wails, he heard them ask how many more souls Pat wanted on his conscience. How it was time to make a choice because to angels were coming to save neither him nor the ones foolish enough to take it on themselves to save Patrick O'Brian from the hellhole his soul had been left it. How it was time for revenge, to join John Winchester in his war against the wrongdoings of the forces his wife had put her faith in. The forces that had let her down and watched in silence while she burned on the ceiling. How his own wife and daughter had fallen victims for souls that belonged in hell. Angels had watched while they were murdered for nothing but opening the doors to strangers. Strangers that were after him, Patrick O'Brian. Strangers that believed he was the evil who needed to be stopped. Devout men who killed in the name of God.

The demons singsonged that it would never had happened if angels weren't involved. Nothing of all this would be necessary if the demons had been left alone, to rule the souls that were destined to be condemned due to their own choices in life. How there had to be a consequence for sin and betrayal.

They wouldn't survive this. None of them would.

Sam's eyes filled with tears. They had been wrong. It wasn't as easy as they had hoped. As he had hoped. Faith was overrated and evil was everywhere. And, even so, the first time in what felt like years, Sam prayed. He pleaded for Dean and Bobby's souls, pleaded for release, bargained for oblivion. Offered his own soul to spare his friends' and suddenly the sky ripped open in a blinding white light.

Dean ducked. He was nothing but a big ache but his reflexes were still intact and when the sky ripped open, that was what you did.

The strange thing was that as the light penetrated him, he felt all right again. It was like an instant cure and he blinked, trying to assess if he was dead this time around. But the ground was still hard underneath him, he was still breathing; dead men don't breathe, do they?

The light was dimming now, not the mindshattering white any longer but more of a golden shimmer spreading out from a pillar of sorts. This was all so buckets crazy.

Letting his eyes roam, he found Sam at his side, eyes open wide, the light mirrored in them. Bobby's face was more skeptical; a stunned disbelief was how Dean would categorize the expression. The freakiest part was that there was just them now, them and the shimmering light. Gone was the smoke, and Patrick O'Brian.

"What the hell?" Dean finally spat out. "Sammy? Bobby? You two cook up another stupid spell all of a sudden?"

Sam didn't respond right away. He just looked at the pillar of light, mesmerized. Then he swallowed audibly. "I think that's an angel, Dean."

Dean looked back at the light, tying to see what Sam evidently saw. He was almost knocked back by the voice inside his head when the light spoke.

"I am extremely saddened by the ordeal my tardiness brought upon you and your confidants."

Dean's eyes widened. This thing in front of him sounded less than human; the voice had an echo that vibrated in his bones. The words were pronounced solemnly like they actually meant something. Dean had been the one who only believed what he saw, always doubting, somehow he instantly knew that this was Bob. It was just a certainty he accepted without questioning. What was before his eyes was Bob, in his true form. That much was clear. His intentions however, were still as cloudy as ever.

"Where's Pat?" Dean spat angrily.

"He's moved on and found peace. I was wrong about him. He's not what we thought he was. He deserves a place in heaven. We made a mistake a long time ago and now I'm rectifying it. Patrick O'Brian is in his rightful place."

Dean rose to his knees, staring into the light. "You made a mistake? What the hell? You're angels! You're not supposed to be dimwits and make mistakes."

"Everything is not as simple as right or wrong, back or white. There are always shades of gray and we didn't look close enough. I apologize for that. We did learn a lesson, and will not be repeated in the future. That's why there is this place, so we can redeem the souls that seem lost to us. Especially in troubled times like these, we do what we deem necessary."

Dean wanted to knock the son of a bitch out. "And that was getting us here to be the demons' punching bags?"

The light fluctuated. "This had to be, for reasons I cannot divulge. You chose to make the voyage, with good intentions. We needed to know if you were ready, then we just stood back and waited for the truth to emerge. This all is grander than you'll ever understand."

"Oh yeah?" Dean rose to his feet, relieved that his body really seemed intact. "Lemme tell you this; you can think I'm a thickheaded moron but it's still my ass you're hauling all over the place. And you did it by leaking info you knew we had to check out? We're hunters, this is what we do. So, or I'll—"

"You will do what, Dean Winchester? Make a deal? Sell your soul to the demons? There's a reason they weren't willing to make the deal while they embraced you father's offer. What exactly do you think is in your powers to do?"

Great, the angel dude liked twisting the knife? Reminding him about that time when he thought everything sacred was lost? How his father had died because of him? How much he hated that he should be dead and if he were, maybe Sam would have been spared and dad would not be black-eyed at this point? What if none of this would have happened if nature had its course? Maybe Sam could really have gone back to school and lead a normal life like he so wanted. Maybe Sam, despite all, would not be this twitchy neurotic mess half of the time if things had gone differently. Where the hell had all these angels been back then?

"I'll kick your ass, that's first on my list right now."

The light chuckled. It seemed to actually laugh at him.

"Maybe you should take some advice from your brother? He prayed and I appeared. I wouldn't have , Sam prayed for your life. I answered. If you had prayed, I would have done the same. Ask yourself why, Dean Winchester. Ask yourself why your father chose to save you, John Winchester, the demon who sold his soul for your survival, why such a noble act? So he wouldn't have to kill his youngest son? Look deeper, look beyond the obvious. I cannot tell you anymore. You have to decide who you put your faith in. That's the only thing that is in my power, and yours, at this point. So long Dean, we'll soon meet again."

Dean didn't have time to do anything but take a deep breath before the white light flared up again and he was flung backwards into darkness.

Bobby groaned when he woke up in the middle of his own junkyard. Sun beating down on him, warmer than it had been in a long while. Right in front of him were the Winchester boys, looking about as stunned as he felt.

"You two okay?"

Sam looked at him, puzzlement flooding his features when he lifted his hands, palms up. And wriggled his fingers. "M'fine. Dean?"

He turned to his brother, who was already on his feet.

"I have an itch to slam angel heads into a wall all of a sudden. If they even had real heads. Not so sure anymore. What the hell was that all about?" Dean wiped his hands on his pants before looking at Bobby for some explanation.

"Dont'cha look at me, son. I ain't got nothing." He groaned when he tried to get to his feet; the loose sand underneath was the ground slippery and he was not a young man anymore. Not like Sam, who seemed to be able to sprint up and Dean, who took one long step to reach him.

Bobby just muttered a little when the boys pulled him up. He totally glared at them giving him inquisitive eyes. Thankfully, it shut them both up. He didn't need reminders how old he was getting.

"Some trip," he stated while shrugging their hands off him.

"Did we ever actually go anywhere?" Sam said, looking at the ground beneath them. "What if this all happened in our minds?"

Dean boxed his brother's upper arm. "You're forgetting something, dude. Not all of us are psychic. I swear I got run over by a bulldozer back there. Then the angel screwed me royally over with mumbo-jumbo."

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, reaching for Dean who diligently stepped away.

"Angel dude fixed us, right? I'm as fine as you are. Ripped apart and put together, all systems go. Still pisses me off, big time. I need a beer, or a dozen, to get past this crap."

Sam still looked hesitant. "I'm still not convinced we actually went anywhere."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Now you're telling me I have creepy crawly senses messing with my mind on top of the angel radio? That's so comforting."

Bobby decided to stop the argument right then and there, It didn't matter where they'd been, what mattered was that they'd gotten out. "C'mon, let's get those beers before you get on each others throats all over. I'm too old for this."

"I want pie," Dean pointed out while Bobby pushed both Winchesters toward the house.

"I gather you spied the frozen one I got yesterday? You do the defrosting and it's all yours. I intend to sit on my ass for the reminder of the day while you clue me in on what Bob told you," Bobby replied. "He said absolutely nothing to me, except to look out for the two of you. I kinda need more info to be able to do that."

"He served me a truckload of hogwash too," Dean admitted. "Absolutely nothing useful, but 'd you expect? Sam?"

Bobby watched the youngest Winchester shrug his shoulders in a dismissive gesture. Sam had closed up and Bobby knew that it meant he was pondering on things. Which meant he'd open up eventually. Maybe.

There was no way of knowing and Bobby had learned a long time ago to leave Sam be in times like these. Something was bothering the kid and as much as Bobby hated it, there was little he could do to help out right now.

Feeding them was about all he could manage at this point. And maybe find them an easy hunt to take their minds off Bob.

It was late night when they took off.

Dean's drawn face prompted Sam to take the wheel. Something was up with his brother and being his usual stubborn ass, he wasn't telling anybody squat. Dean might think he was fooling Sam with the usual witty come backs, but the lack of fight about letting Sam drive worked like a red light for Sam. Instant alert. Something was up.

Two hours and they were on the highway, headed south when Sam decided to start prodding.

"Look, Dean, I know you're not into the sharing and stuff but man, you look dreadful!"

Dean huffed and cranked the volume up.

Sam shut the radio off. "Driver picks the music. Your rule, man!"

He got no reply. Dean just rolled the side window down a bit and leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Sam's stomach knotted up instantly.

"Anything you need?" he asked. "Seriously, Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothin's wrong, dude. I was just thinking about this whole mess. About that freaking angel turning up so late in the game and telling me he had his reasons. Told me he'd show up if I prayed like you did? I did pray, Sam. I prayed to every freaking god I've heard of when you died, when we were being butchered by Alastair. Maybe it wasn't the usual kind of prayer, but if the dick says he cares, he should have helped back then."

"Dean, the angels are looking out for you, but, y'know, they're angels. They're different." Sam had no idea what to say to his brother at this point. Bob had told him to be prepared for the worst to happen. It scared Sam senseless not knowing what this was. But to him, the worst was losing Dean and he would not let that happen. Ever.

"Right," Dean snorted. "The angels are screwing with my head, that's what they are doing. That's not exactly looking out for me. They sure didn't look out for you, so excuse me if my trust is a little rusty at the time being. Dad saved us from Alastair and he's a demon. You've got, well, demon blood stuff going on and I still trust you over any damned angel. That's a fact."

"Maybe you shouldn't trust me so much?" Sam's fingers curled around the steering wheel, holding on tight. He had gotten a lot of loved ones killed, that was also a fact.

"Why? Did Bob lay it out for you? What this mess is all about?" Dean peered at him from the side.

"Not really, he didn't tell me much at all. Pretty much the same as he told you, and that I had to look out for you. And I'm trying, Dean, I am. But I'm, well, you know what I am. There will always be that part of me that -."

"Shut up, Sammy. Please just shut up! You're my pain in the ass little brother, that's what you are, end of freaking discussion."

The tone of Dean's voice was enough for Sam to do what he was told. The fear still gnawed at him. What if the unthinkable happened? He'd made mistakes before, there were no guarantees.

"Sam, all we have is each other and Bobby." Dean spoke, less agitatedly. "That's the bottom line. Screw the angels and the demons. Screw the seals and our destinies. We stick together. We watch each other's backs. That's pretty much what we can do at this point. You with me?"

Sam nodded, fingers still clutched around the steering wheel.

"Good. Now see that sign over there? I want some pie!"

Sam turned his head in surprise. "Isn't the one you wolfed down at Bobby's enough? Another?"

Dean grinned. "Hell yes, Cherry this time. And if there's a old lady behind the counter, give her your best puppy eyes and beg for some whipped cream to go."

Sam eased the Impala onto the drive-in lane, crisscrossing the parked cars until he got to the minimart and was about to park.

"Drive closer. I wanna check that you do you best to win me some whipped cream." Dean prompted.

"I kinda hate you," Sam groaned when he'd parked as close as possible and opened the door to get out. "Anything else? Anything healthy, like a salad?"

Dean gave him a shit-eating grin and Sam relented. He closed the door and dug for money in his pocket. If Dean wanted pie with whipped cream, that was what he would get. With a last glance at his brother in the passenger seat, Sam turned and walked to the entrance.

Dean watched as Sam walked away and remembered Cold Oak. It was time he got over it, got over the fear he felt when Sam was out of sight. Bob had showed up when Sam prayed. He had saved their asses, Dean had to believe Sam mattered to the angel too.

It felt like Bob was still around. Watching from somewhere and Dean was not quite able to fully relax. This was a test for Bob; if something happened to Sam, the angel could take his freaking radio and stuff it.

Dean rolled the side window fully down and stuck his head out. He looked up to the dark sky. "Dead Sammy's don't bring pie, do they? And I need pie."

It wasn't really praying, not even close. But Dean hoped the angel would get the message.

If Bob claimed to be looking out for him, he'd better be looking out for Sammy too. And he'd better not botch it up this time. That was all Dean really wanted from any angel.


End file.
